Faces of Texas

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"Well, there's me, my wife, my son, my daughter. Four."

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- Joe Martinez, owner and operator of Smoking Joe's BBQ, on the population of El Zacatal. I met 75% of the community on a hot, humid South Texas day. The kids and the family's several dogs were playing in a boat while Joe was working his barbeque stand. I hadn't really considered getting anything hot, but Joe was a friendly, talkative salesperson who convinced me to go for a brisket sandwich. While I ate my mouthwatering meal, we chatted, and I found that his children are the family's fourth generation at that very location. Joe told me that there were supposedly three wagons of gold buried somewhere on his property, a treasure tale passed down from the early days of El Zacatal. He smiled and assured me that he hadn't spent any time looking for them. "This is my gold mine," he said, gesturing to his barbeque wagon. After watching several customers come and go and polishing off my own sandwich, I knew he wasn't exaggerating.

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El Zacatal (east of Progreso), Texas

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"I'm blessed to have a great wife, wonderful sons, and a job in which I've accomplished most of my career goals."

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- Dr. Manual Medrano, standing next to his wife Chavela and sons Estevan (left) and Daniel (right), on a life lived almost entirely in the Rio Grande Valley. A history professor at the University of Texas at Brownsville, Dr. Medrano was kind enough to open his doors to me and give me a tour of campus and town. His knowledge of the area was vast, and he seemed familiar with just about every subject I could think to talk about. Aside from teaching at the university, Dr. Medrano has also published half a dozen books in ten years, the most recent about friend and colleague Americo Paredes. When I asked him if Brownsville had treated him well, he was quick to cite family as his first proof, then his job as his second. It's a telling detail. As many hours as Dr. Medrano has put into his career, he defines himself first and foremost as a husband and father, as someone surrounded by love.

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Brownsville, Texas

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"Anyone can put themselves out there, but you have to make a special effort to stand out against the crowd."
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- Producer/Reporter/Cameraman Joseph Fenity on the competition in his field. Based out of Austin, Joseph has worked in broadcasting since he was a teen. He contacted me several months back, and during the hike, he interviewed me twice by phone. Determined to get video footage, he drove down to South Padre and met me going north. Armed with an assortment of gadgets, Joseph managed to get over an hour's worth of footage and audio. He is in the process of creating the first few episodes of a homegrown news program, due out in September, and is excited about starting something different. His attitude was pure positivity and optimism. He added, "Hey, if Oprah can do it, why can't I?"
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South Padre Island, Texas
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"Three weeks. That totally sucked."

- Jordan Thompson on his former girlfriend's inability to break up in a timely manner. A recent college grad traveling the country from temp job to temp job, Jordan took one look at me and Raisin at the Padre Island National Seashore Headquarters and knew that we were hurting. Though he saw us eating, he offered up the second half of his own meal. When I declined, he offered up his story which I gladly accepted. We spent the next few hours in happy conversation, trading backgrounds and girlfriend woes. In the above story, he mentioned how his girlfriend had traveled abroad to study and how he had remained faithful during the six months apart. In the final month, she broke off the relationship, leaving Jordan feeling like he'd just got back from a five-and-a-half month visit to the cleaners. He made light of it, though, and what's more, it made for a good lesson in life.

North Padre Island, Padre Island National Seashore, Texas

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Mission, McAllen, and My Family

My parents and brother showed up in Mission the day before yesterday. They are a funny trio, prone to excitement and chaos. It's a constant battle in the car over simple things like speed and direction, but I'm glad they came. Raisin, having already met my parents in Laredo, was delighted.

My parents are both retired, my dad a former lawyer and my mother a former CCISD employee, and my brother is going strong as a computer programmer in Silicon Valley. There's a lot of potential there for enlightening conversations, but there's no sense bringing up what might possibly BE because what might possibly BE is accompanied, inherently, by what might possibly BE NOT.

Said another way, we yell a lot.

But all is well in the Read family history. It's loud, yes, but loud in this family is par for the course. It just wouldn't be the Reads if we could only whisper.

Charlie walked with me yesterday, part of the point of his visit to Texas. We got dropped off at the Speer Public Library in Mission (this library was like a palace with computers everywhere) and walked to a point a couple miles north of Hidalgo. We went from 9am to 12pm and 6:30pm to 8:30pm. He's atheletic and had no problem with the pace (not that I walked fast).

During the first segment toward the end, I was about ten degrees away from feeling miserable, but Charlie was in the midst of his limit. California's made him soft, I guess. The weather had put the temperature around 95 degrees with a heat index of 110, but I'm told the weather peaks between 2pm and 6pm. I wasn't yet at my limit, but both Charlie and Raisin were ready to when noon rolled around.

We slowed down for two spots along the way: the McAllen Nature Center and a US Border Patrol Headquarters on the old Military Highway in the south of the state. The nature center was a maze of paths in a wooded area, very green and very quiet. It helped that it was closed to visitors for we had the place to ourselves. We snuck in through a separate open entrance.

The US Border Patrol Headquarters was a little different. We got as far as a little lobby. We wondered who would visit the headquarters, but sure enough, the visitor registration sheet was filled with signatures. I got some cold water from a fountain, said hi to the man behind the glass (who was completely unimpressed by the way), and we continued on our way.

The evening hike was a little different. Raisin sat this segment out, something she hadn't done since Big Bend National Park, and Charlie and I continued. When we got to what looked like a big river, we started hiking along side of it.

The river, it turns out, was the flood waters that are still coursing through the area. Several north-to-south roads which dip low are covered in water and are closed to the public. The massive flooding was a few weeks ago, but the flow here was still a couple of feet deep. We saw a few people fishing on the road who reported a small bass catch. It was so nice to get away from the traffic.

Today, Charlie and I will hike a bit more, then he and my parents will take off. Raisin and I will be left for the final stretch home. Whether that will be on Padre Island or the parallel road is up to the fates.

Until next time...

Laredo, San Ygnacio, and Zapata

Laredo was one big place. It's supposedly the biggest inland port in the USA, which is believable considering the amount of traffic this supposedly small town has. Raisin and I spent a happy few days with my folks in a hotel, then with my friend Becky Garcia at her home. All this heat and humidity makes A/C all the sweeter.

I had no one to talk to after seeing Inception with my parents. The movie was just too much for them, and they had lots of questions like "Was the wife dead or alive?" and statements like "I just didn't like all that floating nonsense." I can see how the movie was a bit difficult to follow, but it explains itself perfectly with enough holes to inspire subsequent thought and conversation.

My folks and I ate at a little hole in the wall called "El Something-Or-Other." I remember it meant "The Hunter." It was right next to a closed down restaurant called El Metate. I don't pretend to understand why I can remember the shut-down place that we walked by and not the place we actually ate at, but there you go. It was delicious food. I ordered pozole, or meat stew, and it was thick and wonderful. My mom got some caldo, or soup, and was pleased; my dad ordered a side of beans, which he claimed only had ten or so, and was thus disappointed. Their presentation sucked - we were served in on styrofoam plates and bowls and cups - but the flavor and consistency of the food was superb. And the name? For all you know, I'm keeping this one to myself.

I did a little bit more historical investigation of Laredo with Becky. The area is the only place in Texas which can claim that SEVEN FLAGS have flown over it (once upon a time, Mexican insurgents created The Republic of the Rio Grande which lasted less than a year). As such, it has some very old stories which survive in family histories and - as I was soon to learn - in the buildings themselves.

Casa Ortiz (in the previous post, I mentioned Jesse Gonzalez and Casa Ortiz) is one such place, among the oldest houses in all of Laredo. There was a sizeable courtyard which had a thick staircase which made cutbacks all the way down to the river. Jesse, who lives there and gives tours, told us that the cutbacks were intended to slow down invading indians and give the family enough time to hide. You can say with accuracy that they don't make em like that anymore.

We could see the Rio Grande from the elevated grounds, and the damage from the recent flooding was evidenced by several bent or broken light poles. The river apparently covered a part of Laredo's International Bridge Number One (there are four) and came close to reaching the top of Number Two. Crazy!

After parting ways with Becky, Raisin and I took a few days getting to San Ygnacio. San Ygnacio is made up of a government building (library included), two gas stations, and one restaurant. I hit up the restaurant for an agua fresca (she just had lemonade, which was good), and then later for a meal. There were only two choices on the menu, so I chose the first one: picadillo a la Mexicana. As can be imagined with just a couple of options to focus on, it was fabulous. Soup for starters, corn tortillas and salsa (you had to break up your tortillas to make chips), and then homemade tortillas to go with the meal. Yum! Beans looked to be out of a can, but the meal as a whole was really delicious.

The kids I spoke with in San Ygnacio had a lot to say. One claimed to be seventeen but had the voice of a kid barely thirteen. He asked me about my trip, and I asked him about the Border Patrol. Specifically, did they bother the townspeople? He nodded, and I asked why. Any cars that are too full or hang too close to the ground are suspect, he told me. I had gotten carded earlier that day just hanging out at a picnic area, so I understood completely. He didn't elaborate, and I didn't push, but the entire issue felt like I was touching a local sore spot. An older kid taking a few courses at Laredo's TAMIU showed up and confessed he was doing community service for 8 unpaid traffic tickets. He complained about the lack of things to do in town, confused by the disbanding of a local rec center, and longed to get out. I was impressed with the level of conversation and interest.

The librarian gets a quick mention here. She showed up late and closed up early, BUT she let Raisin relax inside in the air-conditioned room. She gets points for the latter.

Now, we're in Zapata. A few people honked coming into town, possibly because they saw the Texas Country Reporter last week. Makes me smile.

I spoke with a lovely couple at the first grocery I saw. The older gentleman told me about his days as a migrant worker, bouncing around and doing all the picking and digging jobs that machines do now. His wife, who was tending the register and doing the work of the store, listened and commented occasionally. We talked about obesity, charity, and prosperity. We talked about the USA. Again, there was a real sense that the times have changed in this country, some things for the better and some for the worse.

Until next time...

Books on the Edge

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The Devil's Highway by Luis Urrea details the disastrous border crossing of some two dozen Mexicans in the Arizona desert. Wherever you stand on the issue of illegal immigration, Urrea's book delves into the details of the entire operation, from the men both young and old who look north for an answer to life's troubles, to the smuggling chain of command, to the Border Patrol and their methods for handling this unending assault. In his retelling, Urrea has a somewhat annoying habit of driving home a point using extremely colloquial language, but his eye for detail and drama make this an essential read for understanding the border conflict. A reviewer on the back of the book said something like "Read this book now." I thought at first that this was just the kind of garbage that publisher's love putting on books, but he was right. You need to read this book right now.
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Dead Man's Walk is the first of the Lonesome Dove tetralogy detailing Gus and Call's beginnings, both as friends and Texas Rangers. It's a light read, full of everything you might expect from a non-Lonesome Dove novel. The bad guys range from the indomitable Comanches and Apaches to the Mexican army, and the good guys count among their numbers the famous Texan Bigfoot Wallace. You also get to read the first few moments between Gus and Clara (frankly, I read the story mainly for these passages). It's good fun, more popcorn for the LD fan, but perhaps less meaningful for someone unfamiliar with the original story.
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A side note: My longtime friend admitted to me that he had neither seen nor read Lonesome Dove. If you are a born-and-raised Texan, you have got to carve out some time to experience this story. You'll get more out of it by reading the 900 page epic, but the 6-hour miniseries was so well done that the whole thing's become a toss-up. Fiction at its best.
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The Tecate Journals is Keith Bowden's thru-adventure down the Texas section of the Rio Grande river. Sometimes with friends though mostly alone, he bikes and paddles every mile of this no man's land, spending time on both sides of the river and seeing the spectrum of humanity through everyone he meets. While the book does have its moments, there's a lot left to be desired. I got tired of reading that a couple of beers hit the spot or that some interaction was superlative in some way or another. There's a lot in the book for the canoeing enthusiast, especially if you're about to tackle little known sections of the Rio Grande, but the book falls short of the mark for the rest of us.
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Until we meet again...